Hetalia Ficlets
by almakazam
Summary: A compilation of Hetalia ficlets/drabbles using a prompt list. Something to break writer's block when needed, or when I need to get something out of my chest. IceSey, FranSey, AmeBel, SpaMano, FrUK. Updated weekly. (Prompt link on first chapter; Ship names will be indicated in chapter titles)
1. I'll Never Forget You (FranSey)

_A/N: Hi everyone! While I'm stumped on outlining and writing the lengthy chapters of my pending fanfictions, this drabble string will serve as a place where I can break a bit of writer's block._

 _Edit: I realize I really cannot tell much of a story in 100 words. So I'll be extending the lengths to however it may fit!_

 _Prompt list I'm using: hellsdemonictrinity*.*tumblr*.*com*post/167780256210/angstfluff-prompt-list-5_

* * *

 **1: France x Seychelles: I'll Never Forget You**

* * *

Days have withered to weeks, months, and now, a year. He was just a stranger whom she shared a lonely night with at a quaint cafe. Yet Michelle fell for him too hard, too fast.

The conversation started with coffee. Well, him offering her a warm cup of mocha when Michelle sighed at the chilly weather outside the cafe. It was snowing. She remembers everything- from how this stranger slid in her booth, to his smiles and chuckles, to the coffee he offered and shared, to the desserts they tasted and enjoyed...

To the many words exchanged like they knew each other since forever.

To the twinkle in his eyes when her cheeks betrayed her by coloring themselves a warm pink.

To the surprised expression that crossed his handsome features when Michelle asked if they're gonna see each other again.

And she remembers- she remembers all too well what he answered to that. She remembers having that jump in her heart and the fire in her neck and ears. The happiness that swelled, the giddiness.

 _"Oui."_

And then they parted. Numbers were exchanged before they took their own way home.

But he never came around. She had not heard from him, nor had she ever seen him again. The number he gave never picked up. There was nothing. There was nothing to remember him by except his name and her blurring memory of him.

Michelle wondered what went wrong. What happened? She thought it was something special. She _knew_ it was something special. But why does he only exist as a winter memory?

Every night, before a wistful slumber, his name would slip from her lips.

"Francis... I'll never forget you."


	2. They May Not Understand You (IceSey)

**2: Iceland x Seychelles: They May Not Understand You, But I Do**

* * *

The boy stomped out of the house, burning in frustration.

 _Of course_ none of them would understand. Emil had always been the isolated one. The youngest. The one who's different and one step behind. He got that loud and clear. But that doesn't mean they'd have to rub it in. They didn't have to treat him like a baby who can't be capable and always had to be looked after.

"Emil!"

The pig-tailed Seychelloise followed him out of their home, her cheeks flushed red from running. She slowed down when the boy stopped walking. However, Emil refused to face her.

It was painful. He didn't want her to see him like this.

But then again, he _did_ storm out after what seemed like a messy family dinner with his girlfriend.

"Not _now_ -"

"They may not understand you, but _I_ do!" She cut him off, making him stop to look at her. Her eyes were glossy, but resolute. "We both know that... We always had to prove ourselves... because we were different. We were always alone."

 _That's right..._

 _That's how we met and got together, isn't it?_ _Because we were young and isolated from our families._ Both of them always had to work harder to prove themselves, to make themselves visible. Taken for granted, Michelle and Emil always knew what the struggles are to keep up with siblings who more people recognize than them.

How it feels to just usually be in the background, watching them from afar, wishing they could be a part of them and be acknowledged as one of them too. Someone capable, unique, and not just be brushed off as a 'kid'.

Emil's shoulders slumped, his violet optics peeling away from her gaze. "It's... not your problem. I'm sorry you had to see that."

But Michelle enraptured him in a tight embrace. She buried her face in his chest, smelling the scent of licorice and mint on his dress shirt. "Shh. It's _our_ problem from now on." She murmured, eventually turning to look at the Icelandic. Her warm honey brown eyes were kind, her lips quirked in a heart-tickling smile.

Surrendering with a sigh, Emil nestled his head against hers, his arms around her. Her hair smelled of fruits and citrus. It reminded him of calming days at beaches and beautiful tropics. Everything about her calmed him.

"If... you say so."

"Of course, I say so."

"Yeah..." The boy said, shaking his head and letting a shaky chuckle slip from his lips, before planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Yeah, you do. Thanks."

Perched on one of the trees was a certain bird with a pink bowtie on under its beak, watching the young couple tenderly. He shook his wings and flew down to Emil's head once more, as if joining their hug.

"...damn bird." The pale boy grumbled. Michelle looked up and laughed.

" _Suck it._ "


	3. What Happened To Your Hands? (IceSey)

_A/N: I realized 100 words is really not good for me, so I'll extend a bit with the storytelling. I'm going to edit the first two chapters as well to match the length!_

* * *

 **3: Iceland x Seychelles: What Happened To Your Hands?**

* * *

"Mitch...?!"

Emil practically ran down the stairs upon smelling the ungodly smoke that enveloped the kitchen, searching for the brunette. He was still in his boxers with his pale hair fresh from the comforts of his pillow.

He made sure to open all the windows in the hallway leading to the cooking area. Mr. Puffin fled the scene as soon as the first window was opened, cursing at what chaos happened in their little home. The smoke wasn't exactly thick, but any form of fire would alarm anyone.

 _Especially if you're living with a certain pig-tailed girl who can't cook on her own..._

And there she was, sprawled on the floor, surrounded by what seemed like broken, burnt pans and pots, blackened utensils and charred ingredients strewn over the floor. The stove was covered in white. Michelle was holding on to a fire extinguisher. Exhausted and heartbroken. Her eyes lifted to look at the shocked boy. She had been crying.

 _Of course._

"I-I'm-"

"What did you do?!"

"I'm _so_ sorry, Emil," Michelle sniffed. "I'm sorry for this mess-"

"No, what happened to your hands?!"

In one swift motion, the Icelandic was seated across her, gingerly holding her hands. Splotches of red and white and swollen skin on his precious girlfriend's hands that made her wince. His brows furrowed. Violet optics meeting her misty, honey brown eyes. "You have burns all over..."

Michelle blinked, looking at the boy with a glossy gaze. "I..." She finally managed to croak out, her eyes falling onto her hands, and then on the broken pans from the fire. "I was trying to make you good food today and... well, it didn't go so well."

A frustrated sigh left Emil's lips. He helped her stand up, and away from the chaos, walked her to the bathroom where their first aid kit was. He prepared a basin of cool water for her to submerge her hands in as he rummaged through the items searching for bandages and pain relievers.

Of course, Emil the anxious was murmuring a litany of curses and indistinguishable worrying all throughout. Something about ' _I can't believe it, you had me worried so much, if anything happened to you I'm not sure what to do- seeing your hands like that was, ugh, god shitty awful, those hands are beautiful and precious, how are you gonna tickle me ever again? We oughta save up for sprinklers or something'._

Michelle couldn't help but chuckle. Emil's attention snapped back to her as he carried over the items and began treating her burns. She winced as the boy began to gently dry her hands with a towel before putting on the non-adhesive bandages.

"What were you doing anyway? It's so early in the morning, and you _don't_ even cook without me!" He grumbled, a dust of pink coloring his pale cheeks.

"W-Well... It's _your_ birthday, so."

At that, Emil paused from bandaging her hands, his eyes slowly meeting her smiling pair. The pink blush over his cheeks spread over like a crimson fire on his face, neck and ears as the Icelandic boy was unable to mutter anything else. Michelle leaned in to plant a dainty kiss on his nose.

"Happy birthday, _cherie._ " She smiled.


	4. You Shouldn't Have Gone (AmeBel)

**4: America x Belarus - You Shouldn't Have Gone By Yourself**

* * *

Her piercing, violet eyes were glued on the American that waved his way through the thick crowd. Music and colorful neon lights pulsated. The floor moved in rhythm with heavy stomps and jumps. He was tired. Stray locks of his sandy blonde hair stuck on his sweaty face, his eyes searching for her. The drunken cheering of the people drowned out his voice. She could make out that he was calling her name, though.

 _'Natalya?'_

Finally, Natalya threw her empty cup away, marching towards a lost Alfred. He was surprised to see her, and relief eventually washed over his features. However, the Belarusian was not pleased. Not in the slightest.

Her hands grabbed him by the collar and dragged him outside the riotous club.

"Nat, I'm so-"

"What in the world are _you_ doing here?" She hissed, pale features turning a light scarlet. Perhaps from the intoxication, perhaps from the anger. Perhaps both. Alfred sighed, an apologetic expression crossing his weary face.

"Dude, I was looking for you... This was the last place I looked, you... You're not the type to go _here_. You shouldn't have gone by yourself." He mumbled out, warily looking at the passers by with stares and glares that lingered on the pair longer than necessary. His brows scrunched together in annoyance. On a normal day, he'd probably gone inside for a night of dancing and booze.

But not tonight. Not when he upset his girlfriend and she fled at the peak of night to this sleazy, rowdy place. Not when his girlfriend was getting herself drunk over an argument he had started. Over his own ignorance and stupidity. Guilt brimmed inside of him. "I'm sorry. I really, _really_ am sorry, Nat."

Natalya rolled her eyes, walking briskly away and into his car. She wobbled a little, and Alfred was quick to hold her by her waist, steadying the belle. She clicked her tongue but didn't push him away. His warmth and comfort were... nice, familiar.

Not to say her rage over him was over, though. Once they reached the car, Natalya climbed in and slammed the door shut. She doesn't understand why she's with him. Why she likes him and his idiocy. His stupid, childish antics and dreams and-

Alfred climbed in the driver's seat quietly. Natalya sighed, breaking her internal angry rant and looking at his stupid eyes, his stupid, baby blue eyes, his stupid pout...

"Whatever." She finally breathed, albeit angrily. "Nothing has changed, has it? I'm just _some_ bitch that just _nags_ at you-" She had to pause, a lump in her throat forming. Her violet eyes became glossy, until tears revealed themselves as they rolled over her cheeks. She laughed humorlessly.

"I should stop caring, shouldn't I? You're fucking right, I'm being _so_ nosey! The _nagging_ can wait until we're married, like you said. So go on and fucking ruin your life, Alfred! Go and waste your days on your computer, on your junk food, on _never_ getting anything done at home! I'm-"

"I'm sorry," Alfred interrupted, facing her. "I mean it. I know it was wrong, I knew you were just caring and just... I'm not used to it. This whole relationship thing... I'm sorry I haven't been a more... productive partner, for being a sleazeball, a pig, like you'd call me..."

He ran a hand through his locks, sucking in air sharply. " _You_ taking care of me, and calling me out of the BS I do, just... I'm sorry I got mad over that. I'm sorry I called you shitty things. I'm sorry I'm took you for granted, I... I don't know how to tell you how much I'm sorry. I'm a shit person and I know it."

They sat in silence. Discomfort building, with Natalya's sniffing the only noise that fills them in.

"I'm gonna make things better Nat. I promise. Just..." He reached out for Natalya's hand. She flinched the moment his skin touched hers, her violet eyes tracing from his hand to his trembling lips to his sad blue eyes. "Just don't go... I got so worried sick, I... didn't know what to do."

Shakily, she released a sigh. "One more chance. Know that my patience is not long, and I'm not gonna be able to keep up with your shit."

Alfred smiled, the weight seemingly off his shoulders. "T-Thanks... I, uh-"

"One more thing," the female said. Her downcast eyes centered on their hands, with their fingers now intertwined together comfortably.

He tilted his head to the side. "What is it?"

"Do... do that thing."

"...what thing?" Curiosity grew, evident in his eyes. Natalya would not meet his gaze.

"The thing you do before we go sleep."

This unexpected request prompted Alfred to chuckle, now with tears in his eyes. Of joy, of relief, of... both, likely. Natalya's cheeks flushed red as she squeezed his hand _hard_ , enough to make him jolt from his seat and wince.

"Ow, ow, _ow- Okay!"_

Releasing the death grip, Alfred leaned in to kiss her forehead, her nose, her cheek, her lips. His thumb grazed over her skin gently, wiping away the streak of her tears on her cheek. He was gentle, he was warm. He brushed aside the locks of her pale blonde hair, his breath ticking her skin. Finally, he whispered:

 _"I'm Batman."_

Natalya's hand slapped Alfred's arm, pulling away from him. "Idiot! I don't want it anymore. Let's go home."

"No, I'm gonna do it! I love you, you grump- ow!"

" _Home._ "

"Okay!" Alfred whined, rubbing his arm where Natalya pinched him. He revved the engine to life, and before driving down the road, looked at his beloved once more with a relieved smile. _I love you._


	5. Did You Hear That? (FrUK)

**5: France x England (implied America x Belarus) - Did You Hear That?**

* * *

"Did you hear that?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Hear what?"

The American leaned in, keeping a straight gaze at the other blond man. Light blue eyes was met by Arthur's bright green optics, which were unquestionably dissatisfied. "Was that cannon fire...? Oh no, it's just my heart pounding!"

"I can already hear Natalya responding with, 'Would you like to hear cannon fire? Because I'd like to shoot you from one.'"

"Dang, yeah, I can see her saying that too, and dragging an actual cannon with her."

In front of Alfred was a list, phrases short and long from the top of the paper to the middle crossed out in scrawny marks. His hand gripped the pencil to cancel out the latest pick-up line. Arthur had his arms crossed, critically eyeing him and the list of embarrassing failures.

"Welp, half the list to go!"

"I don't even know _why_ I'm helping you with this!" Arthur flared, throwing his hands up in the air. Alfred could only blink at him, noticing the faint red blush on this face. The Brit began stammering afterwards, resuming to his sullen, salty position. "W-Where's Francis when y-"

The door swung open, and Arthur almost fell out of his seat.

"We're _hooo~me!_ "

"Dude, finally!" Alfred jumped from his chair as he clutched the list of pick-up lines, almost crumpling it. "Francis! Arthur is useless! He hates all of my pick-up lines! Oh, and hi, Mattie."

"Because they're terrible, you twat! What's next on that damned list?"

Matthew put down the grocery bags on the kitchen counter, offering a wave and a gentle smile to Alfred and Arthur. Next to him, Francis planted a dainty kiss on the top of the Englishman's head. The latter tried to swat him away but the long-haired blond would only give him a chuckle.

Alfred's brows furrowed together. "Aha! Okay, next one is, 'Girl, you should sell hotdogs, because you already know how to make a weiner stand.'"

"..."

"... _mon dieu._ "

"...How many hours do you have before your date with Natalya?" Matthew asked.

"Like... Two, I think. I wanna use some lines to impress her!"

The French's lips coiled into a teasing smirk, blue eyes centered on Arthur's blushing face. " _Oho~_ Looks like I have to save the day then, _oui_? You know Arthur does not have that romantic bone in him." He ended with a wink.

"Yes, I _do!_ " The Brit retorted, standing from his seat.

"Yet to prove, _mon amour._ " Francis chuckled, taking a seat across him. "Do not fret, Alfred. I shall show you how pick-up lines are properly done."

And with that, he swiveled his attention to the green-eyed Brit seated across him who had an incredulous expression on his face.

The two younger blonds looked at each other and gave a shrug, watching whatever was to be demonstrated now. Alfred leaned against the counter with crossed arms as Matthew hopped on the counter top, crossing his ankles.

The shade of red on Arthur's face only deepened with each second that Francis's eyes remained on him. Arthur fidgeted. "W-What?"

"Just gathering inspiration." He replied.

A fetching smirk, almost _too_ seductive for the poor Brit's heart to take, stretched across Francis's handsome features. He hovered closer to Arthur. His lips were parted slightly, almost invitingly, and Arthur finds himself swallowing hard.

Matthew squirmed, leaning over to whisper to Alfred's ear, "I d-don't think w-we should be-"

"Stop s-staring, frog face! Look at something else! Like," Arthur stammered, finally getting the willpower to look away. "The stars! W-We have a nice evening sky tonight, get your inspiration from that instead!"

"Ah, but why would I want to look at the stars, when I can look at _you_ instead?"

Arthur abruptly turned to look at him, about to protest. Francis simply wore a victorious grin on his face, eyes never leaving the Brit. Their respective reactions caused the two younger boys to cover their mouths, stifling their laughter, embarrassment and excitement.

"I s-said stop looking!"

Francis took a dramatic pause, gazing into his eyes and then shaking his head after. He laughed. " _Oui,_ sorry. Your eyes are so beautiful, I just keep getting lost."

"Francis-"

"I've always found you perfect. Although... The only flaw in your entire body is your lips. They're not touching mine."

Arthur was fuming.

"They say kissing is the language of love... Perhaps we should start a conversation then, _mon beau?_ "

Poor guy could only find himself with his heart throbbing too fast, too hard. Fire spread all over his cheeks and neck. And Francis was aware of this, cocking his head to the side as his smirk grew. "Let's spruce things up a bit... This is actually fun."

"W-What do you mean?"

"Hmm? Oh, it's just that I find your lack of nudity disturbing, _amour~"_

At this point, Alfred and Matthew were just looking at each other, their cheeks painted in florid colors of red. They would not bear to watch and hear this exchange much longer. Alfred let out a nervous laugh. "W-Well then! I, uh, g-gotta go prepare for m-my date! Uh, I need to make sure my fancy pants are ironed! See ya!"

"A-And I'm... gonna make sure Alfred doesn't burn the house down! B-Bye!"

Together, they ran out of the kitchen. Arthur panicked, planning to run after them, but Francis's hand would grab his wrist, his knowing blue eyes staring him down like a predator studying its prey.

"You're not leaving me just yet _, amour_. We're not done." He smirked coyly.

It was going to be a long, uncomfortable night which may or may not have Arthur and Francis end up in the bedroom. Or the kitchen counter.


	6. I Think About You All The Time (FranSey)

**6: France x Seychelles - I Think About You All The Time**

* * *

Three years.

And now, those years were empty. They meant nothing. Three years filled with memories, kisses, lasting embraces and promises of a future together were never enough of a reason for him to stay. But it shouldn't be. You should never stay in a relationship if all you have is pity for the other person and regrets of all the time you've had together.

You stay for love.

But Francis did not love her anymore.

It's scary isn't it? Waking up one day and your partner realizes that his heart no longer beats for you. There are no other reasons why- no affairs, no finding someone else... Just, he just fell out of love.

And all this time, for nearly half a year, he did not say anything; he pretended things were still as bright, warm, and beautiful for them. He pitied her. Michelle adored him so much. The girl loved purely, intensely. She would give him the world. Francis could not tell her the truth. He cares for her, but he's not enamored with Michelle anymore. He didn't want the three years go to waste, he did not want to break her heart. He did not want to see her cry.

But finally, one day, the guilt took over. He would not let all her efforts continue in vain. It was unfair. He was selfish. He did not deserve all the love she poured out for him. He told her. The truth took Michelle by surprise, and then many things flashed across her face- confusion, panic, anger, and then pain. _Hurt_.

 _"Ma cherie... I_ need you to know something, though. This is not your fault. No one's fault."

Then why?

Why did Francis fall out of love?

Michelle could not grasp it. She did not understand how people could just fall out of love simply without reason. She could not wrap her head around the concept that it was not her fault. That it was no one's fault. There must be something- _anything-_ that triggered it. She was desperate to find a reason, something to answer her questions, something to calm her bewildered confusion and something to pass the blame and hurt on.

She did not know how to handle this. Her tears felt endless, her pain felt infinite. Michelle watched him go. She was alone.

Day by day, she'd write letters, but just in her notebook. Scrawled messages addressed to Francis. To the one she gave her life to, the man she thought she'll spend the rest of her life with.

 _I still don't understand why..._ One entry would read at the start.

 _Are you taking care of yourself? I wish I could be there._

 _I think about you all the time._

 _How do people just fall out of love? Four and half months in, I still haven't fallen out of love with you._

And then a full year passes by. Michelle fills up her notebook to the very last page, the sunshine in her eyes robbed for what seemed like an eternity. They were dull, they were sore, they were broken. Her empty gaze lingered on the notebook, and then, flames reflected on her optics. She watched the fire engulf all what her heart had been whispering, wailing for the year.

Until the notebook was no more but a dwindling flame and a pile of ashes.

She blinked, and she felt tears again dampen her cheek. It has been a year, and she's still stuck. Stuck in this dull house, in this empty neighborhood, in this miserable chapter of her life. Michelle still didn't understand a thing. But she's been trying to accept things. People change. Feelings change. Nothing ever lasts forever. And she's given up on ever finding someone to love. She wouldn't dare.

She could never love that much again.

Because now, she could not even love herself after giving every bit of her heart to Francis.


	7. I Love You No Matter What (SpaMano)

**7: Spain x Romano - I Love You No Matter What**

* * *

 _ **Something that hit close to home, recently. I'm sorry if it poured out in writing.**_

* * *

"Breathe..."

Antonio's voice crooned, a soothing lullaby to Lovino's ears and a stark contrast from the pained and broken sobs coming from the Italian's chest. His arms were wrapped around his trembling body, his hands gently rubbing his back and his voice continued to flow in hushed, gentle tones. It was another night. Panic, bad memories, abandonment. A lot of things haunted Lovino and stirred him up.

"It's okay... Nothing's going to hurt you. No one's leaving."

"No... one..." Lovino croaked out in between sobs. Tears that streamed from his eyes soaked the fabric of Antonio's shirt, his face buried on his shoulders and his hands desperately clutching on the taller man's clothes. He could not stop. He could not calm down. He could not stop shaking and crying and the fright continues to swallow him. He could not escape.

Lovino's feelings were a raging sea at a dark, violent storm, its waves claiming the life and form of everything that tried to subdue it, ride on its tide. Its depths seem endless; a black abyss that awaits anyone who dared try to plunge in and understand the workings of it, its very core. It's dangerous to dive in and reach out, even just the edge of the chasm. Because Lovino does not welcome anyone there. He protects himself so much, he cages himself and locks himself with chains and metal that he's suffocating himself. He lashes out in confusion, hurt, fear, anxiety; Lovino feels so much, loves too much. He has so much love and he does not know how to calm the ocean. He does not know how to love himself properly, for all he knew was fear.

But Antonio. Antonio was there, in the middle of the chaotic disaster, rode the stormy seas and endured the danger of attempting to reach Lovino's core. He sails carefully, and sees all of Lovino's fear, his wrath, his troubles, and despite everything, despite the oceans roaring to swallow him and the waves attempting to throw him off his steady sail and wash him away, Antonio smiles, and does not fight it, he welcomes all of it at once, and if he drowns, he would sink into the abyss with a smile, if that was the way Lovino could show it. It was the only way he could.

He saw how he tried so hard. Lovino tried not to hurt Antonio. But the storm was oftentimes too strong, and he finds himself pushing him away, the only one who saw through everything and found the beauty in such a mess. Lovino was notoriously known for being brash, harsh, foul-mouthed. But beneath it all is a man who was scared to bare his emotions. Antonio was the only one who loved him for he is, the one who understood that in the rumpled entanglement of emotions and fear, he saw that Lovino could love so much.

Lovino pulled away from the embrace, frantic, honey eyes lined with frightened tears looking at Antonio's kind face, studying every line, every curve, every wrinkle. As if he tried to memorize it, this smiling face, this face who showed him mercy, vibrant emerald eyes that lovingly gazed at him, Antonio, who somehow managed to find a safe route in the middle of the dark, stormy oceans.

Antonio lifted his hand to caress Lovino's wet cheek, gently grazing his thumb over his skin. "I love you no matter what."

And then it was all it took, Lovino blinked, and tears were there again. He felt so safe, secure, and as he closed his eyes, he felt the rage of the storm and the wrath of the sea being appeased, and the sun would peek behind the growing gaps between the black clouds and blanket him in warmth. Love. He loves him so much. So much, too much. And if there's one thing his feelings have gotten used to, it's finding itself embracing the warmth of Antonio's sun. This man brought with him sunshine that it was painful, he was weak to defy the light and the warmth he offered.

Lovino breathes easy, falling limp in Antonio's arms. Antonio smiles, pressing a dainty kiss on his head. It seems the storm has passed. It will one day come again, he knew. But he's trying everything to see Lovino smile without worry someday, to have nights pass peacefully without another violent episode at sea.


End file.
